


Storms/Silver Lining

by DeandraAlleyan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Eothiriel - Freeform, F/M, Rainy Night, grieving death of loved ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeandraAlleyan/pseuds/DeandraAlleyan
Summary: A summer storm triggers unexpected consequences for Eomer.  [Complete in total of 4 chapters (0-3).]
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Lothíriel
Comments: 19
Kudos: 43





	1. Storms

**Author's Note:**

> _Amazing what a rainy night will do for my creativity. This story began as a short one-shot (Storms), but then I ended up writing ‘more’. So, the three chapters of Silver Lining continue the story begun in Storms._

**Storms**

**(Aug, 3019 III)**

Rain hammered on the roof of Meduseld, almost as if the skies also wept for Theoden King, lost too soon. His sister-son, Eomer, now king of the Riddermark, sat upon the throne and stared gloomily at the shadows of the room laid out before him. One hand ran over the smooth wood of the throne’s arm, as memories flooded through him of his uncle sitting here. At this moment, the Golden Hall did not seem all that golden. The weather aptly mirrored his mood, and he rubbed a weary hand over his face.

A sound to his left drew his attention, and honed instincts kicked in as he became instantly alert. Without thinking, he reached for the sword that did not presently hang at his hip. A rustle of fabric preceded the wearer into the firelight, and as the woman suddenly became aware of his presence when he shifted position, she gave a soft, startled gasp. Both visibly relaxed as they recognized one another, and gave weak smiles. 

Silently moving to the fire pit in the center of the room, she began to warm her hands, and he rose to join her. As he came near, he inquired, “Did the storm disturb you?”

She shook her head and glanced at him with a smile. “I am well used to storms. Many such blow in off the ocean during the winter months. Actually, I find them rather soothing.”

He quirked an eyebrow at the comment since the tumult raging outside hardly seemed to merit the description of 'soothing'. Apparently sensing his curiosity, she elaborated. “I remember as a young girl the first time I was truly aware of a storm. It was during the night and I became terrified, running to my father's room for comfort. To my surprise, though it was well into the night, he was not asleep, but sitting in a chair looking out the balcony doors at the storm. Tearfully I climbed into his lap, and he held me close. After a while, he explained that storms were not to be feared. He said that it was only the skies expressing some strong emotion, weeping for those who were lost or frightened.

“We sat there for some time and then I asked him if they had wept for my mother. He told me that they had, and that they had wept for me, who had lost her when I was so young and so greatly in need of her. And they had wept for him who had been left with a gaping hole in his heart. Somehow, his words were more comforting than he knew, and I never again was afraid of a storm.”

He watched her profile in the firelight as she continued, “I think the rain is cleansing to the soul, like water to a wound. It washes away the dirt of pain and freshens us to carry on.”

Lothiriel lapsed into silence and Eomer pondered her words. Perhaps, then, the skies were now, truly, weeping for Theoden, and for all those who mourned him. Perhaps they wept for Theodred also, who should have been here in Eomer's stead, taking up the throne of his father. He rather liked that idea; it almost seemed a tribute from nature to the Riddermark's lost heroes. A smile twitched at his mouth, and his heart suddenly felt far lighter than it had only moments ago.

“I believe I will return to my room now,” Lothiriel commented, breaking his reverie. “I was feeling restless earlier, but it seems to have passed.”

Offering his arm, Eomer asked, “May I escort you?”

She nodded and they moved toward the hallway. Eomer glanced at the woman from the corner of his eye. Imrahil's daughter was proving rather intriguing. Perhaps he would make the effort to get to know her better.

THE END (of the one-shot; story continued in 3 chapters titled ‘Silver Lining’)

1/30/07


	2. Silver Lining, ch 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In doing research for this story, I examined what exactly Tolkien had written about those who left Edoras after the funeral. Tolkien clearly indicates that Eomer and Imrahil remained at Edoras while most everyone else left. For my purposes here, I need to alter that slightly, though I will largely keep to canon beyond that tiny point. “Storms”, in its original form, is essentially the prologue. Chapter 1 of “Silver Lining” begins “the rest of the story”._

**Silver Lining**

**Chapter 1 (15 August, 3019 III)**

His esquire brought Firefoot, and Eomer automatically began his usual routine of checking over horse and saddlery. He knew it had been done already, but it settled him to know for himself that all was well. As he moved around Firefoot to check the girth, he glanced up and caught a glimpse of Lady Lothiriel, standing in front of her tent and brushing out her long, ebony hair.

Though his fingers continued working, without conscious thought on his part, his eyes were fixed on the young woman. She was unaware of his gaze and her movements were unstudied as she finished the brushing, and began to braid the hair in a long single plait down her back. Almost of their own will, his hands twitched with a desire to bury themselves in that lovely silky fall, and the action brought him to himself with a jolt. 

He should not be having such thoughts about his friend’s daughter, and certainly not since he knew her so little. True, their conversation at Meduseld on that rainy night after the funeral had almost seemed intimate, but there had been no time to further acquaint himself with her. Guests and pressing matters of the kingdom kept him much occupied, and he very much suspected that it was not just the reasons he had given for joining this expedition, but also a certain lady that caused him to be standing here now. Yes, he did wish to visit the Westfold, and see for himself the situation and what needed doing for his people, and yes he did want to spend just a little more time with his friends before they each departed to their homes, not to be seen again until who knew when. His reasons were perfectly valid, yet…his eyes glanced again in the direction of Lothiriel’s tent, but she had returned inside it. Swallowing hard, he firmly drew his mind back to the present. This was not the time nor place for such things.

Within a half hour, camp was struck and the large party was on their way once more, headed first to Helm’s Deep. How different was this trek to the one made in haste several months before. While the danger of orcs and wargs was not entirely absent, it was greatly diminished, and they were able to move at a more leisurely pace. Much as it had during the funeral march for Theoden, placement on the road conformed to a person’s importance, for the most part. Aragorn led the way, and Eomer rode beside him, along with Gandalf and Imrahil. The Elves tended to keep to themselves, traveling along beside the group of Men, Dwarves and Hobbits, close but not interacting a great deal. Though the Hobbits had been welcome to take a place of honor at the front also, they had preferred to align themselves farther back. Merry and Pippin were animatedly engaged in conversation with various friends they had formed, but Frodo rode in silence, keeping his thoughts to himself. Ever watchful, Sam rode alongside his master, casting concerned looks from the corner of his eye.

Originally, Eomer had intended to invite Imrahil and his family to remain longer at Edoras, but when they voiced their intent to accompany Aragorn to Isengard, and his parting with the Fellowship, Eomer had impulsively chosen to join them. Conversation was minimal among the men leading the way, though Eomer found his thoughts drifting far from his current surroundings. Two things seemed to vie for his attention: where they were headed, and those behind him in the procession.

He could not entirely keep at bay concern over what lay ahead, and his responsibility to contend with it going forward. Most of his life had been spent fighting to defend these lands, but he had never given much thought to the rebuilding process after a battle. As king, he now needed to consider such things, and make wise decisions on behalf of the Eorlingas.

Of a more pleasant nature were his thoughts about Imrahil’s family. That was how he tried to categorize the random notions running through his head – that he was thinking of the entire Dol Amroth group. In truth, his mind lingered longest on the lone female in their midst. He rubbed a weary hand over his face. He was tired. The past months, even the past years, had taken a toll, and he very much wanted nothing more than to go somewhere quiet, and relax under a sunny sky with the company of a beautiful woman. There! He was doing it again – thinking of her. Surely it was only loneliness creeping in because of his tiredness. He had gotten far more rest since the end of the War, but still was not rested, and while Rohan’s woes persisted, he did not think he would be for some time. The company of ladies could not, should not, be a priority in his thoughts.

“Eomer?”

He blinked, and looked to his left where Aragorn was eyeing him curiously. “I am sorry. Did you say something? My mind was elsewhere,” Eomer confessed.

Aragorn smiled benignly and answered, “The problems will become no greater or less for the amount of time you dwell on them, my friend. Deal with them as they come, but do not let them constantly beleaguer you.”

Eomer grinned. “King for only a few months, and already you are expert in such matters?”

Aragorn chuckled, and then shrugged. “We, both of us, will have to feel our way a very great deal, as we learn how to rule. At least I will have Arwen beside me, when the challenge becomes overwhelming. I am sure Eowyn will assist you as much as she can, until her marriage, that is.” He left unsaid the suggestion that Eomer consider the matrimonial state as well, and Eomer refused to acknowledge the unspoken hint.

“Yes, I am sure Eowyn will be a great help. If anything, she has more experience than I do in the court of Meduseld. I will rely on her greatly, I am certain.”

Aragorn kept an even expression, but did not pursue the matter. Eomer had always been strong-minded. He would do things in his own time and his own way.

xxx

It took several days for the large group to reach the Hornburg. Eomer had tensed the closer they came, and the sight of the battered fortress was discouraging. It seemed to symbolize the Riddermark in its entirety. How were they ever to recover from such devastation?

Legolas and Gimli rode nearer, on their shared horse, to join him, and Gimli loudly announced, “Not so bad, Eomer. Let me get a few Dwarves out here, and we’ll have those walls mended in no time! The foundation is still sound, and though battered and scarred like its people, she still stands proudly.”

Eomer blinked at the cheerful encouragement from his diminutive friend, then noticed Legolas smiling knowingly at him. “Now and then, he does say something worthwhile,” the Elf observed with quiet amusement, too softly for the Dwarf, sitting behind him, to hear.

Eomer ducked his head to hide a grin, but was grateful for the hopeful assessment. He could hardly doubt that Gimli would be as good as his word in coming forth with aid for the rebuilding. And he would never again presume to underestimate a determined Dwarf!

By early afternoon, the group had reached the bottom of the causeway. Once again, the Elves elected to pitch their camp outside the walls, not liking to feel enclosed by stone or wood. The remainder of the group made their way inside, where Erkenbrand greeted them, seeing everyone settled in the rooms that had been salvaged as still usable. Temporary canopies had been erected over some of them, to deflect any summer rainshowers. Before winter arrived, they would need to get something sturdier and more permanent in place to keep out the cold and snow.

The company rested at the Deep for two days, before continuing on to Isengard. While they tarried, Legolas kept his promise to Gimli and went exploring in the Glittering Caves, and Imrahil’s family had prevailed upon Eomer to give them a cursory tour of them without going so deeply inside. Always before, on the few occasions Eomer had ventured here, he had never paid much mind to the aesthetics of the place, but now that he was showing it to visitors, he looked with new appreciation upon the beauty there. While the Deep had proven a strong and dependable fortress, it was also pleasing to the eye.

“It is beautiful, my lord,” a soft voice said from his right, and he glanced over to see that Lady Lothiriel had come up beside him. 

The rest of her family was wandering the open chamber in which they stood, leaving the two of them near the entrance to it. Gazing at her, his thoughts shifted from the glitter of the cavern around him to the glint his torch cast in her hair and eyes. “Yes, very beautiful,” he murmured in response, not really thinking of caves and stones.

Apparently, she recognized his remark was not directed the same as hers had been, for a pink blush tinged her cheeks. Looking quickly away, she inquired about the cave’s history, and Eomer forced himself to draw his thoughts back to their location, and the presence of her other family members, as they moved farther into the cave.

xxx

In some respects, Eomer was glad to leave the Deep. He had enjoyed seeing Erkenbrand again, but beyond that his presence had largely involved assessing the damage, what needed to be done to restore the fortress, and being apprised of the situation around the Westfold through Erkenbrand’s eyes.

Even so, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to reaching Isengard. Too clearly did he remember the treachery that had emanated from there, resulting in the loss of those beloved by Eomer. The last glimpse he’d had of the place, after the battle at the Hornburg had been won, was not a pleasant memory.

As they drew near, the first thing that caught his eye was that the stone wall, which had encircled the place, had been torn down by the Ents, and now the land within was made into a garden, filled with orchards and trees. A stream ran through it, and off down the bordered path leading from where the gate had once stood, Orthanc now rose out of the midst of a clear lake. There were two tall trees standing like sentinels where the gate had been, and the company halted there to gaze in wonder at the changed scenery. Clearly the Ents had been busy to accomplish so much in so little time.

At length, Aragorn and the bulk of the party set off down the path to Orthanc, but Eomer lingered behind, not quite ready to approach it. Turning Firefoot over to his esquire, he strode off to stand among the trees, still gazing at the impregnable Tower of Orthanc some distance away. 

His thoughts were muddled, but of one thing he was certain – they were all gloomy. This sight tore at him, like sharp claws of a wild animal, filling him with almost unbearable anger.

“I would imagine,” a voice said quietly, from slightly behind him and off to his left, “that this place has different meaning and significance to you than it does to Gondor.”

He did not need to turn to recognize the speaker as being Lothiriel, and why did that realization suddenly cause some of the tenseness to ebb out of him?

“Yes,” he murmured softly, in response. “Here resided the evil that caused so much misery for my people…for me.”

“But does it not lighten your mind to see that evil washed away? The Ents have turned this spot into a garden most lovely, and the darkness has been eradicated. Now this is a place of beauty and peace,” she observed.

He gave a sigh, and turned to look at her. “Perhaps in time I can feel more as you do, but at this moment, I want nothing more than to tear that blight from my land, and see it utterly destroyed. While it remains standing, it will continue to be a constant reminder of what we suffered.”

She smiled understandingly and laid a cool hand on his arm. “I do not blame you for that, my lord. I have heard the tales of Saruman’s treachery, and I have seen what your people have lost because of it. But do try to let your heart be healed of this anger, so that you also may share in the newfound peace of Middle-earth.”

They stood frozen, gazing at one another, and then Lothiriel stepped back, dropping her hand. “I should leave you in your solitude and rejoin my family,” she said quietly.

Straightening, Eomer drew a steadying breath. “No. I will not tarry here, alone with my thoughts. I will accompany you. A man must confront that which most challenges him, if he is to come off the victor.” He offered his arm to her, and she took it with a smile, as they moved to reclaim their horses.

Somehow, it was easier drawing nearer to Orthanc with Lothiriel riding beside him. As they reached the rest of their party, Quickbeam was just handing over the keys to the tower to Aragorn, the rightful owner now. The Ents invited them to linger, but all said that they must depart, with the exception of Legolas and Gimli, who set off to visit Fangorn Forest. The remainder rode on toward the Gap of Rohan with more speed.

Soon Aragorn and his group were taking their leave. At last it was time for farewells to be said, and Eomer could postpone it no longer. He must return to Edoras while the rest rode for Gondor, and Gandalf escorted the Hobbits and Elves on to Rivendell. It was with heavy heart he watched the two groups riding from the camp his men were preparing. Aragorn and Imrahil, Eomer could expect to see again; in the near future, actually, when he went to Minas Tirith for Eowyn’s wedding. But when he might see his Hobbit friends once more, he could not say.

Sleep did not come easily that night, as the sights he had glimpsed across the Riddermark over the course of their travel haunted him. Only when the lovely image of a certain woman of Dol Amroth floated into his thoughts did he find rest for a few moments.

xxxxx

Too soon. Winter was already upon them and there was still so much to do. There had been almost a frantic race to find adequate shelter for everyone who had lost their home, and to establish food supplies that would see them through the winter months. Gondor had been of help there, sending large supplies of grain and other foodstuffs to supplement what little they had been able to salvage or produce in such a short time. Clothing had also been sent, and that was also greatly needed. Eomer did not like the idea of accepting such charity from their neighbors, but Eowyn had persuaded him they could not make do without the assistance, just as Gondor would not have survived without the aid of the Rohirrim in battle. That made his mind a little easier on the subject.

The brightest spot in his existence of late, with all that pressed upon him, were the letters from the South. Little more than a month after Aragorn had departed, the first one had come, in a packet from Dol Amroth:

_My lord king,_

_I wished to take a moment, since Father is sending correspondence to you, to thank you for your kind hospitality on our recent visit. I know it must have been difficult for you, considering the circumstances, but you and Lady Eowyn managed well. I hope you are finding solutions to the many problems your people face, but also that you personally are finding some relief from the duress you are under at present. I know from experience with my father that you will never be entirely free of it, yet still I hope you might find moments when you may laugh with friends, and enjoy the sunshine on your face as you ride across the plains of the Riddermark._

_Again, thank you for all you did to see to our needs while we were visiting. Perhaps one day you will come to Dol Amroth and we may return the goodwill._

_Regards,_

_Lady Lothiriel of Dol Amroth_

The letter itself had been insignificant, and yet a thrill had shot through him when he realized who was the author. Nothing in her missive required a response from him, but he had been unable to suppress the urge to reply to her. Not wishing to appear overly eager to correspond with her, he had delayed sending the letter until nearly a month later, when he could resist no longer. 

_Lady Lothiriel,_

_You are too generous with your gratitude. I fear you did not see Rohan, or Meduseld, at its best, and I hope that one day you might consider returning, in less melancholy circumstances._

_The difficulties here continue, but Gondor’s beneficence has been most helpful in that regard, and it appears we will manage the winter. I am sure our tables will be rather lean for some time, but the Rohirrim are a hardy people and we do not yield to such privation._

_As to your wish to extend Dol Amroth’s hospitality to me, I would very much wish to take advantage of the offer, though I do not know when that might be achievable. Your father and brothers talked much of their home, and I should like to see the sea for myself if the occasion arises where it is feasible. Do not rule out the possibility that I will one day appear on your doorstep._

_At any rate, I thank you for your correspondence. It brightened my day to receive it. I have not entirely been able to set aside the gloom you witnessed, but I well remember your encouraging words, and am endeavoring to put it behind me for good._

_Warmest regards,_

_Eomer King_

He had not been completely satisfied with his letter-writing attempt. It had seemed much too stiff and formal, and he had never felt like that when in her actual presence. Something about her was warm and inviting, and he had spoken more freely with her than with any other woman of his acquaintance, aside from his sister. Still, Eowyn was wrapped up in her own thoughts and feelings, both about Theoden’s death and her own betrothal. Lothiriel had…as an uninvolved bystander, she’d had the leisure to look closely at him, and see more deeply into his soul than he had ever intended anyone should. At least, that was how it seemed to him. Her observations had been to the point, and touched on precisely the matters upon which his mind dwelled. But, moreover, she seemed to understand what he was feeling, and her quiet, peaceful manner was soothing as nothing else had been since the War. Had there been a reasonable way to accomplish it, he would have kept her in Edoras far longer. 

When he sent his response to her letter, he had not expected that she would write again. He knew his last few lines had perhaps hinted that he would not be averse to hearing from her a second time, but he had not allowed himself to hope that she would pick up on that and heed it. He had misjudged her in that respect, and within a fortnight, in the very next packet from Dol Amroth, there was another letter in the pretty hand he readily recognized. There were others in the room when he opened the packet and found it amongst the other missives, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from retreating immediately to his study to read it privately at that very instant. Instead, when no one was looking, he slipped it in his shirt. It took over half an hour to find an excuse to be alone long enough to peruse its contents. 

_Eomer King,_

_I was delighted to receive your answer to my letter. I had not dared hope that you might find time to respond, but it was most pleasant to hear from you. If you have no objections, perhaps I may be so bold as to ask your permission to write an occasional line to you, to send my best wishes and inquire after the situation in Rohan. I will, of course, not expect you to take time in your busy schedule to answer my silly communications, but perhaps they will at least bring a smile to your face for a moment, and lighten your day’s load ever so slightly._

She had gone on to describe her homeland, the sea and Imrahil’s castle. The letter extended a full three pages, and he got it read through twice before he was interrupted and had to return to his duties. But the words of it lingered in his mind, and a grin twitched at his mouth more than once, for no apparent reason. At the risk of seeming over-eager, he had sat down that very night as soon as supper was finished, and began his response. The prospect of further correspondence made the task more challenging to him. His first letter had been polite and formal, but this extended communication suggested he could perhaps change that to something more…friendly. 

However, he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about effecting that change. Surely there were protocols to such things, and he was woefully uninformed on them. He could have asked Eowyn for guidance, but he was unwilling to make this foolishness of his known, and he preferred to keep this activity private, at least for the time being. 

He supposed the first step was to try and eliminate some of the more formal language in his letters, and see if that encouraged her to follow suit. 

_My dear Lady Lothiriel,_

_It was indeed an unlooked for pleasure to receive your letter. I am astonished that you wish to correspond with me further, as surely I am not the best in writing letters. I have always been a man of activity, and spent most of my time out of doors. Indeed, I am amazed you are even able to make out my scrawlings sufficiently to interpret the words! But, if you are willing to endure such punishment, I am delighted to indulge you._

_Unfortunately, I do not know that my letters will prove of much interest. While I thoroughly enjoyed hearing you write of your homeland, and felt as though I was standing beside you and seeing it for myself, words do not come so easily to me. I deeply love my country, there is no question, but I feel unequal to expressing that on paper, or even really in words. This land has always been a part of me, for as long as I can remember, and I have never desired to live anywhere but on its rolling plains, in the shadow of its sturdy mountains. I love every rock, tree and stream that inhabits its boundaries, and I have fought with all the strength I possess to defend her. Even the burden placed upon me as her king is not more than I am willing to bear in her behalf. I know the road ahead of us is long, and will be difficult, but I will see Rohan rebuilt to what she once was. I will see her people thrive once more, and live in peace – without fear. I only hope that it will not take too long to achieve._

_But, surely, that is not the sort of thing you wish to hear about, though I do not know what else to mention. Eowyn is well, and eagerly anticipating her wedding in the spring. I suppose that is when I will again see you and your family, as I presume you will join us in Minas Tirith for the happy occasion. Your cousin seems a good man, and certainly he has brought my sister a joy I feared she would never find._

_Ah well, I must close as I have run out of things to say, but I do hope the brevity of my response will not discourage your staying in touch. I do very much enjoy hearing from you, and reading whatever you wish to tell me of Gondor._

_Eomer_

He had reread the letter a dozen times before finally sending it, and then, once it was gone, feared that it had been too informal with someone he knew so little. He had been on edge until her reply came, and he found no censure in it, or even a hint of displeasure. 

_Lord Eomer,_

_I am relieved you are willing to indulge me in this letter writing venture I have proposed. I feared greatly that I might be imposing upon your good humor, and I hope you are not feeling the need to tolerate me for fear of offending my father. In truth, he does not know that I write to you, for I was too embarrassed to admit it. I think he believes it is Eowyn with whom I correspond, and I have made no effort to correct that misimpression._

_Should you ever be disinclined to continue, I do hope you will feel free to say as much, and I will not be hurt or offended if that is the case. I am sure your days are filled to capacity, and likely the last thing you wish to do is idle away time writing to some silly girl in Gondor. You are very kind to humor me. I confess I find your people and your land fascinating. Other than to Minas Tirith, I have little traveled from home, and so journeying far to the north was quite an adventure. And then to actually see the places which are now a large part of our recent history – Meduseld, Helm’s Deep and Isengard. I know that for you the latter places have some painful memories, but I hope you will also remember the good of them – that Helm’s Deep withstood the onslaught, and that the evil of Isengard was washed away. Meduseld may stand all the more proudly because of those accomplishments._

_And, if I may be so bold, I would tell you that you are not at all inadequate with words, at least not when it comes to expressing your love of country. I was greatly moved as I read what you had written. Perhaps because I am a woman, and have never fought to defend my home, I have never considered it in such a way. Your words inspire me to look more closely at my homeland, and my place in it, but more importantly they inspire me to serve so willingly as you do. My duties as the daughter of a Prince are far more insignificant than what you are called upon to do, but that does not mean I may not put forth my best effort within my sphere of influence._

_Our correspondence has inspired me in another way – I have begun searching our libraries for books that tell of Rohan’s history. Sadly, I find they are few and far between, and there is not a great deal to be found. The greatest space is devoted to Steward Cirion’s gift to Eorl of the Riddermark lands. It seems a shame that your history is not widely known. Perhaps I will need to champion the cause of having it put down on paper for the eternities. I think I could find a willing benefactor in King Elessar, for he seems to be a man who understands the value of both the Eorlingas and history. Maybe when I am next in the White City I will petition him on the matter._

_In the meantime, anything at all you wish to tell me of your people, I will gladly hear it. Just as you said you felt as though you were standing beside me, seeing with your own eyes as I described Dol Amroth, I felt much the same as you spoke of Rohan. The rolling plains were vastly different than the pounding of the surf which is most familiar to me, and yet the scope and majesty of them is not unlike the sea. My appreciation for them deepened, though, when seen through the fond gaze of your eyes. You had mentioned the possibility that I might one day make a return visit to your country, and I should very much wish to do so. Perhaps then I will have more time to spend exploring it and meeting your people._

_Until then, words on paper will have to suffice, and I thank you again for your indulgence._

_Lothiriel_

She, too, had dropped some of the formal tone from her missive, and over the next few months, they had ceased using titles and simply called one another by their given names. He almost hadn’t noticed when she had ended a letter with more than her usual signing of her name, including the word “fondly” before it. Only on the second reading had the word jumped out at him, and his stomach lurched. Could there be significance in her use of that word, or was it merely a friendly term. Ladies were more inclined to express such things than men, and perhaps she had thought signing only her name to be too cold. And, yet, he could hope there was more meaning to it than that. 

Eomer blinked as that thought struck him. More meaning to it? What meaning did he wish it to have? Even as he asked himself that question, he knew the answer. The attraction he had felt toward her while she was in Rohan for Theoden’s funeral had only been intensified by their correspondence. Part of him still thought he should forget about such matters at present, and focus solely on helping the Riddermark recover, but wasn’t acquiring a wife and queen a positive turn in that direction? A wife who could eventually provide him with an heir? Would not that be a very good thing for his people, in fact cheering news amidst all the bleakness of their current struggles? 

He leaned back in his chair, tossing her letter on his desk as he let out a heavy sigh. It felt so selfish, and yet he truly believed that he would be happier if he had a loving bride, and if he were happier, wouldn’t that make him a better king for Rohan? He scrubbed at his face with his hands, letting out a growl of frustration. How to decide such a thing? Rohan might wish to see him married, with a queen and an heir, but that did not necessarily mean they would desire a Gondorian to be that queen. Despite the renewed friendship between the two lands, there were still some old grievances, and even if there were not, many were likely to think a bride from the Riddermark a better choice regardless. 

Eomer was going to have to do some hard thinking on this matter. They would return to Minas Tirith in just over a fortnight for Eowyn’s wedding, and he would see Lothiriel again. She had assured him she was looking forward to the reunion. In all honesty, he was also. If he truly held romantic feelings for her, that would be the time to pursue them, to see if she might be similiarly inclined. Before they passed onto the Pelennor, he needed to know his intentions toward the lady. 

_TBC_


	3. Silver Lining, ch 2

**Silver Lining**

**Chapter 2 (Edoras, Spring, 3020 III)**

Eomer finished pulling on his gloves, but then paused, staring across Firefoot’s back toward the mountains and lost in thought. After several moments, the gray stallion gave a snort and shifted restlessly, wondering at the delay.

“Eomer? Is something the matter?” Eothain queried from his right.

Drawing in a lungful of air, the king brought his attention back to his surroundings, and turned to look at his friend. For a moment he considered giving a truthful answer, but this was neither the time nor place to discuss such things, so he merely shook his head. “No. Let us be going.” With that, he gathered the reins and stepped up into the saddle.

Eothain eyed him closely for an instant, but then moved away to mount as well, and the party was quickly on their way down the hill.

Eomer’s sister was bubbling over with eagerness, and he could not restrain a chuckle as she repeatedly rode on ahead, and then had to circle back to rejoin the wedding party. By mid-afternoon, he could not resist observing, “Eowyn, we will arrive no earlier for your agitation. We travel at good speed, and Faramir will be your husband soon enough! Be at peace!”

She scowled at him, and then grinned sheepishly. “I know you speak truly, Eomer, but it is difficult. When you are in love, you will understand why I cannot contain my desire to be with him. And we have been parted for so many months.”

He smiled indulgently at her, not commenting that he understood better than she realized. A hard gallop to Mundburg would suit him just fine. It would mean he would see Lothiriel again all the sooner. But, unfortunately, decorum had to be maintained. He was king now, and such impulsiveness was…undesirable. Even though it was difficult to do, he quickened the pace slightly of their party. Evidently Eowyn had noticed for she cast him a grateful smile.

They camped outside the Rammas Echor their final night before arriving at the City. Eowyn had paced the perimeter of the camp for well over an hour before turning in, much to her brother’s amusement. Normally, he would have ridden on for so short a distance, but it was necessary to arrive with a certain formality and dignity that creeping in at dusk did not afford.

Trying to ignore his sister’s frustration, Eomer stayed to his tent, meeting with Eothain to deal with various matters. Their business concluded, Eothain was just preparing to rise when Eomer leaned back in his chair and stared off to his right. “You are acquainted with the Lady Lothiriel, Imrahil’s daughter, are you not, Eothain?” he asked casually.

Eothain bit back a grin, concealing it just before Eomer glanced at him. He shrugged, then answered, as he settled back into his seat, “I have been introduced to her, little else.” He could have said more than that, but thought it best to wait and see where this conversation was going.

“And what do you think of her?” Eomer pressed, still not meeting his eyes, an oddity in and of itself.

Taking a slight breath, Eothain carefully responded, “She is a beautiful woman, to be sure.”

Eomer’s brow wrinkled. “Of course, that cannot be argued, but I meant something more substantial than appearance,” he answered, somewhat impatiently.

Eothain grinned again. “Ah. Still, what man, including you, does not enjoy spending time with a beautiful woman?” Then the marshal added more seriously, “She seems pleasant enough. But I know her too little to comment beyond that.” He stopped, thinking for a moment. “She is…all that I might expect in the daughter of a Prince, I suppose,” Eothain observed, giving another shrug.

“Yes, all that might be expected of a Prince’s daughter…” Eomer repeated musingly. “But would she make a good queen, a good queen for Rohan?” Finally Eomer did look up and meet his gaze, though the king’s expression was guarded as he awaited a response.

Now Eothain allowed his grin to show and he leaned forward. “You are thinking of marriage? I did not realize _you_ were that well acquainted with her!”

Eomer shifted uncomfortably, then admitted, “I am not, but I…hope to become so. I have met no other woman who appeals to me so well, and now that I am king I must seek a wife. She would seem eminently suitable – though Rohan may not agree.” 

He scowled down at the table, and Eothain sat back with a laugh. “Eomer, how long have you served the Riddermark?”

“What? I do not recall…most of my life. You know that,” Eomer answered in confusion, not expecting such a question.

“Exactly. You have devoted your life to defending our people and keeping them safe, and now, though you never expected it, you are willingly stepping in to be our king since those who should have held that position are gone. Which means, my friend, that you will continue serving Rohan for the rest of your days. Your people can hardly begrudge you taking the lady of your choice as your wife, to stand beside you as you do that. And, if she comes from Gondor, so be it. Gondor is now our friend and ally once more, and your marriage would only strengthen those ties. Even though you might marry for love, there is no denying the valuable political connection you would form in taking such a bride. If Rohan objects, then they do not deserve to have you as their king!”

The king gave a small chuckle, amused by Eothain’s passionate discourse. He was rarely so eloquent, but it was clear that he was quite sincere in his words. Eomer was still not entirely convinced the people of Rohan would be quite so agreeable to this idea as Eothain believed they should be, but he did make some legitimate points. Yes, if the lady was inclined, perhaps he would pursue a courtship…

His friend, suspecting the conversation was essentially ended, rose, and smiled down at him. “Do not let duty take from you every shred of happiness, Eomer. You _do_ deserve happiness, and if Lady Lothiriel will give it to you, then you have my full support. And I will not tolerate any naysayers to trouble you on the matter!”

A bit sheepishly, Eomer grinned at him, and extended his hand to clasp arms with his officer. “Thank you, Eothain. I do appreciate that. Good night.”

His friend’s words replayed over and over in Eomer’s mind as he lay on his bed that night, and sleep was a long time in coming. When he awoke, however, one thing was firm in his mind – he would approach Lothiriel about a courtship. If she was willing, he would speak to Imrahil. The time for uncertainty was past; he was determined to commit to this course and see it through to whatever conclusion there was.

Though the spring nights were still chilly, the day dawned sunny and bright, and the entire camp seemed tinged with Eowyn’s excitement. They quickly ate, packed their tents and were on their way. It did not take long to cover the few miles across the Pelennor, and soon an escort was seen riding out to meet them. Eowyn had gone strangely silent, falling back to ride alongside her brother, and Eomer refrained from teasing her, taking pity on her nerves. They both knew that Faramir would not be in the escort party, so they could relax for the present. Eothain took charge of the bulk of the camp, and two Gondorian soldiers led them to where they should set up.

Eomer and his sister joined the rest of the escort for the ride into the city. As they wound their way through the streets, making their way to the upper levels, the citizens came out to cheer and welcome them. Bouquets of flowers were tossed to Eowyn from women and children, and the men heartily hailed the king of the Rohirrim riding beside her. Eomer knew it took quite an effort for his sister to maintain her composure in the face of such regard. While much of it was due to the affection with which the Gondorians viewed their Steward, it was also a very real affection for the White Lady, who had done her part in defending them.

At last the pair reached the gates to the Citadel courtyard and rode inside alone, leaving the escort outside. King Elessar and Queen Arwen awaited them, with Faramir standing nearby, his gaze fixed on his betrothed, a warm smile lighting his face. Eomer strongly suspected the man very much wished to rush forward and pull Eowyn into an embrace and a fervent kiss, but he suppressed his inclination admirably, and Eomer restrained a grin. Were it him in Faramir’s boots, he was sure he would feel the same, though he was not so certain he would resist the urge!

First the formalities were observed, but once the wedding party and their hosts had moved inside, the greetings became warmer. Elessar embraced his dear friends most cordially, and Faramir indulged a kiss to Eowyn’s hand, though his eyes clearly indicated it was far from satisfactory as a substitute for a true buss with his beloved. While Faramir’s restraint was amusing, Eomer was astonished that Eowyn strictly held to the protocols. She had never been much for following the rules in the past, but perhaps her future as the Steward’s wife had inspired her to behave in a more appropriate manner, at least as Gondorian society would deem so. Eomer was sure she would never wish to do anything to embarrass her husband.

As the pleasantries were ending, a servant came forward to show the wedding guests to their chambers, and the siblings moved after him, eager to wash the dust from the road. It took a little time to get settled, with all their baggage delivered. Eomer discarded his armor, washed quickly and changed into fresh clothing, then hastened back out to rejoin Aragorn…Elessar. Eomer still had difficulty remembering to use this new name for his friend, though he was sure Aragorn would not object to being called such in private.

He met Eowyn in the hallway, also eager to return to their friends, though perhaps one of their number in particular. Catching Eomer’s arm, her brisk pace pressed him to move more quickly and he snickered down at her. “Are we in a rush to be somewhere, sister?”

She gave him a glare to silence him, but then a grin broke through and she shrugged. Innocently, she told him, “I always enjoy Arwen’s company!”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eomer laughed sarcastically, “I am _sure_ that must be the cause of your behavior!” 

They both laughed together then, and continued on their way. The royals of Gondor were awaiting them in the library, along with Faramir and two unexpected guests. “Gimli! Legolas! It is good to see you once more. How was your visit to Fangorn?” Eomer inquired, supressing a chuckle at the look on Gimli’s face at the question.

“The trees were most wonderful, Eomer,” Legolas answered quietly. “I did not learn their language, as I hoped, but the visit was quite soothing. Too long have I been amid stone buildings and upon battlefields.”

“The trees were…lovely,” Gimli grudgingly grumbled, though his countenance belied his remark, and Legolas cast a look at Eomer that said he knew full well that Gimli had not been all that enamoured of the experience.

Changing the subject, Eomer asked, “And what brings the two of you here? An earnest desire to see my sister wed?”

The unlikely pair chuckled, but Gimli explained, “That, too, but I am supervising the repairs to Minas Tirith and restoring the main gate you saw. Legolas has been over in Ithilien with a group of his Elven friends, trying to restore the land to its former beauty. Seems those nasties out of Mordor trampled Gondor’s garden spot into a right mess.”

“To say the least,” Faramir added, joining them. “It saddened me to see its beauty despoiled, but the Elves have done much to correct that. Soon it will be lovely once more.” He turned to smile lovingly at Eowyn, adding in a murmur, “A proper place to take my wife.”

His three companions all ducked their heads to hide smiles, and Eomer decided to pursue another line of conversation. “Have your kin from Dol Amroth joined you yet? I understand they are to be here to stand with you.” It took a great deal of effort to conceal his eagerness to hear Faramir’s response about the arrival of those from Dol Amroth.

“They are not yet arrived,” Faramir explained, “but the boat should be here tomorrow. It is expected around midday. I was going to ride down to meet them at the Harlond. Perhaps you would care to join me. The entire family is coming, including Elphir’s wife and son.”

“I would like that,” Eomer said noncommittally. “I am eager to see them all again, and I look forward to meeting Elphir’s family. The boy is, what, about three years now?”

“Yes, just this year, and quite a handful to his mother,” Faramir answered, with a grin. 

Just then Elessar joined their group, as Faramir drifted back to where Eowyn stood conversing with the Queen. The conversation turned to catching up on the activities of each since last they had been together, and Eomer had little time to think about Lothiriel further. After dinner, Eomer joined Elessar in some meetings he had scheduled, and the men were kept occupied for the remainder of the afternoon. He did not see his sister again until supper, and only then did he realize that the Steward had not been in their meetings. He had a sneaking suspicion how, or rather with whom, the two of them had occupied their day, but he did not begrudge it to them. Let them be reacquainted before their wedding day. It would help settle any nervousness they might have to reaffirm their feelings for one another in advance.

As Eomer readied himself for the evening meal, he found himself restless, and when finally he was willing to admit to it, the cause lay in Lothiriel’s absence. He had hoped she would already be here when he arrived, so he could promptly pursue exploring her possible feelings toward him and his suit. And, in truth, he simply wanted to see her again, in person. Letters were all very well, but he preferred speaking to people face to face, particularly when it was a woman to whom he was attracted. Pushing aside his turmoil, he finished his preparations and headed off to join his supper companions. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

xxxxx

Eomer had seen some of these large boats a couple of times when he was in Gondor at wartime, but he had not paid them much heed. Now, with little else to focus on while they awaited the boat coming in to its mooring, he studied it with some mild interest. It took a moment to realize that someone was standing on the deck, energetically waving in his direction. Well, his or Faramir’s, as the Steward stood beside him. When he realized it was Lothiriel, he very much hoped that at least some of her greeting was for him.

Faramir returned the salutation, and Eomer followed suit. It was still several more minutes before the boat finished docking, the planks were lowered and the passengers were able to exit. Imrahil quickly led the way to their waiting greeters, a broad smile on his face. “Faramir, Eomer! It is so good to see you both!” He clasped arms with each of them, but also pulled them into a fatherly embrace. Then, teasingly, he eyed his nephew. “How are you holding up? Not too jittery, I trust.”

Faramir smiled warmly back at the older man. “Not too, no. I am too overwhelmed with gratitude that she has accepted me to have enough sense to be jittery!”

The three chuckled at this pronouncement as the remainder of Imrahil’s family came to join them. Greetings were made all around, and Eomer was introduced to those in the party whom he had not previously met. Much as he wished to speak with Lothiriel more intimately, there was no opportunity amid the hustle and bustle as they began to get the baggage sorted and consigned to wagons to be transported to the city. Horses had been brought for the men, and a small carriage for Lothiriel, her sister-by-law and young Alphros. The boy, however, petulantly announced his inclination to ride on his father’s horse, and would not be put off, despite arguments that Elphir did not know the animal well enough to think it safe.

After several moments of malcontent, Eomer offered, “Perhaps you would allow the boy to ride with me on Firefoot, Elphir. My stallion is steady as they come.”

Elphir hesitated, then said, “I do not wish to impose on you, Eomer. Alphros can be a handful.”

Eomer grinned in return. “If I can manage a few orcs, I am sure he will not overtax me, and it is only for a brief period! Allow him to ride with me.”

“Please, Papa, please! May I?” Alphros begged, eager to seize this opportunity.

His wife, Alcathir, was looking nervous, but Elphir nodded. “Very well, if you do not mind, Eomer. If he is too much trouble, we will stop along the way and he will ride the rest of the trip in the carriage.” The last was said firmly to Alphros, to impress upon him what his behavior must be if he did not want to lose this privilege.

“I will be good, Papa! Promise!” the boy exclaimed, bouncing up and down in place.

Giving a bow to the ladies, Eomer retrieved Firefoot from his esquire and mounted, then rode back to the party. Elphir handed up his son, and saw him settled in place. “Remember, my son. You promised,” he remonstrated, and Alphros solemnly nodded his understanding.

The ladies were soon handed into the carriage and the men mounted up, then the slow procession made its way toward the city. Alphros, who had been all excitement a moment ago, suddenly developed a bout of shyness when he found himself alone with this large stranger on top of this huge horse. The reality was not proving quite so pleasing as he had anticipated. Sensing the boy’s tenseness, Eomer asked, “Have you ever been on a horse before, Alphros? Do you ride with your father?”

The boy silently nodded, and Eomer persisted, “When I was your age, I would go riding with my father also. I am not sure if his stallion was larger than Firefoot is, but at the time he certainly seemed huge. Only because I trusted my father not to let me fall and be hurt was I not afraid.” As he spoke, his arms tightened around the boy, and in doing so, he felt the tenseness ease slightly. He continued to ramble on about anything and everything, feeling the boy relax even more as Eomer’s words distracted from his fear.

As he became more relaxed, he also became more talkative. Twisting to look up at Eomer, he said, “You are the king.”

Eomer nodded. “I am – of Rohan. There is a different king in Gondor. His name is Elessar.”

Alphros digested this and then announced, “Aunt Lothiriel says you are a great warrior.”

Unable to restrain a grin, Eomer glanced at the carriage, though he could not see past the window curtains. “Did she?”

“Yes! She says you killed many orcs, and a…a…olly…olly-something. I forget.”

“An oliphaunt,” Eomer corrected quietly, remembering that day on the Pelennor far too vividly. “Yes, I killed one of those, and many orcs. That is true.”

The boy considered this and then said, “You are very nice. Thank you for letting me ride your horse. Is he a warrior, too?”

“He is,” Eomer said with a smile, “and you are very welcome. Firefoot likes little boys.”

“Maybe…” Alphros said, then paused to think about his idea, before suggesting brightly, “maybe you could marry Aunt Lothiriel and have a little boy of your own!” He looked up at Eomer again, not fully understanding the strangled expression the man bore or the slight pinkness creeping up his neck.

“I suppose that is a possibility,” Eomer carefully answered. 

Just then, Elphir brought his horse in closer to them, and asked, “How is he doing? Is he behaving?”

“I am, Papa! I am being very good. Am I not, Eomer?” Alphros inquired.

Elphir cleared his throat in amusement, then told his son, “Alphros, you must not be so informal with King Eomer. I may do so because we are friends, but you must call him Lord Eomer as you do other grown men.”

“But I am friends with Eomer, too!” Alphros protested. “And he is letting me ride Firefoot!” 

Clearly in the boy’s mind, that argument settled the matter, but Elphir knew he needed to be more firm on the issue at hand. “I am sure Eomer thinks of you as a friend, but you still must show your manners in addressing him.”

A pout was forming on the boy’s mouth, and Elphir was concerned where this was heading, but Eomer deftly defused the situation. “I will tell you what, Alphros. As you are also of royal birth, it is appropriate that I show proper respect to you as well. When we are in public and not just around family, we will call each other Lord Alphros or Lord Eomer. Is that agreeable to you?”

The boy grinned at him, “All right!” Then he comfortably leaned back against Eomer’s chest and snuggled deeper into the clasp of the king’s arms.

Shaking his head in amusement, Elphir murmured to his friend, “You may come to regret that!”

“It is better than an argument and tears, is it not?” Eomer replied, quirking an eyebrow.

“Aye! It is that!” Elphir glanced up and noticed their imminent arrival at the city gates, then nodded to Eomer before riding to join his family.

Eomer watched him go, and then involuntarily glanced again at the carriage. This time the curtain was drawn back and a lovely face was grinning at him. Though not entirely sure why, it made him flush pink again and look away.

Alphros had a thousand questions as they rode through the streets, and Eomer did his best to give adequate answers, but even so, by the time they reached Imrahil’s townhouse on the fifth level, he was more than ready to turn the boy back over to his parents. Alcathir hustled her son inside as soon as he was retrieved, and the men of the family began seeing horses, carriages and so forth consigned to their proper places. Eomer had dismounted, waiting for Faramir to join him in returning their own horses to the stables, when a quiet voice at his elbow said, “You are very good with children, my lord.”

He looked down into Lothiriel’s twinkling grey eyes. She was teasing him; he was sure of it. Giving a shrug, he told her, “I was a boy once. I know something of it.”

She gave a laugh that sounded musical to his ears. “Indeed! And what sort of boy were you, if I may ask?”

With a rueful grin, he replied, “A naughty boy, I am sure! I drove my father, and then my uncle, to distraction with my mischief. Fortunately, for Uncle, I grew out of it before too long and he could rest easy.”

“I should like to have known you as a boy,” she quietly told him.

Just then, Amrothos approached, to Eomer’s very great annoyance, and soon after Lothiriel excused herself to go inside with the others as Faramir finally made his way over to Eomer. They didn’t bother to remount, and led the horses behind them to the stables on the sixth level. For a time, they were silent, and then Faramir observed, “It seems to me that you look at my cousin a great deal, Eomer.”

Refusing to rise to the bait, Eomer shook his head. “You are mistaken. I only look at Amrothos when he is making a spectacle of himself, though I grant you that is rather often.”

Faramir snickered, and replied, “I was not speaking of my male cousins, as you very well know.” He paused, then added, “There is certainly nothing wrong with your admiration of her, and I suspect her family would be well-pleased if you were inclined to…pursue her.”

The hint was unmistakable, but still Eomer was not ready to tip his hand. Not until he and Lothiriel had reached such a decision did he intend to share his thoughts with others. “Perhaps they would, but I have more pressing concerns than lovely ladies. I will consider your…suggestion, all in good time.”

Faramir glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but said nothing further as they led the horses into the barn and began seeing them settled. Despite his words, though, Eomer could not shake Lothiriel from his thoughts. She was here, and just as he remembered her. Her ease with him earlier suggested their informality, formed through their correspondence, had survived being reunited in person. Now the tricky part was getting her alone long enough to talk frankly and openly with her, about any possible future they might have together.

Clearly that wasn’t going to be easy. While Imrahil’s family did join them for supper and conversation afterwards, there was no opportunity or valid reason for Eomer to take Lothiriel aside privately, and so he was forced to settle for gazing at her across a busy room, and trying not to make his watchfulness too noticeable. Already Faramir had picked up on his attentiveness; he did not want others doing likewise.

Meetings again occupied most of Eomer’s time the next day, so he did not see Lothiriel until that evening. There was a formal pre-wedding feast, and much of Gondor’s nobility was in attendance. Supper was followed by dancing, but Eomer was being approached by too many wanting to speak with him for him to be able to claim the first dance with Lothiriel. Instead, he glimpsed her on the floor with her brother, Erchirion, followed by a long succession of men. Evidently, he was not the only one eager to keep company with her, and she was smilingly obliging to all comers, to his very great annoyance.

He at last had managed to get away from the noblemen who gathered around him like midges, and stood watching the dancers as he drank a goblet of wine. His mood had been deteriorating for a good while, and now he was trying to think of some way to approach Lothiriel for a dance. She was having such a good time, it was clear, in the company of others, that he was not so sure his offer would be of any significance to her. And that was not what he wished.

“Did you think,” a voice asked quietly from beside him, “that my sister would not also be admired by others?”

Eomer didn’t need to look to know that it was Amrothos, Imrahil’s youngest son. He had always found the man a bit annoying with his astute observations, and this was no exception. “Of course not!” he snapped, unable to hide his irritation. He could have explained more, explained that he had thought something of a relationship had been developing via the letters he and Lothiriel had been writing through the course of the winter, but he saw no reason to give Amrothos any further information on the matter.

Amrothos snickered, and Eomer had the uncomfortable feeling he guessed the truth even without the details being admitted. “She is amiable with most people. As the daughter of a Prince, she has been reared to act so. One should never presume more familiarity than is expressed.”

Casting a glare at the other man, Eomer drank down the last of the wine in his goblet in a single swallow. “I will keep that in mind. Please excuse me.” He moved hastily away to forestall any further conversation, and to reduce the very strong urge to throttle Amrothos. Despite his annoying words, it was not Amrothos’ fault that Eomer had believed Lothiriel might have come to think fondly of him, and would welcome his suit. 

Pacing the perimeter of the hall, finding movement eased his tension, he suddenly skidded to a halt. What was to say that Lothiriel _wouldn’t_ accept his suit? Just because she was admired by others, that did not mean she would refuse him. And, as Amrothos had pointed out, she was raised in a royal court. Marriage to him would be highly desirable. He caught himself up short at the thought, and gave a snort of disgust. He did not desire a wife who married him out of duty. If she could not come to him because of true affection, then he would not offer for her.

“I hope that expression does not mean you have a sour stomach, my lord.” 

Eomer visibly started at the voice beside him. He had become so lost in his thoughts that he had not noticed Lothiriel approaching. The smile she gave him suggested she knew she had caught him off his guard. He randomly said the first thing that came to mind, “I thought we agreed to call each other by more informal names…Lothiriel.”

Her smile broadened. “We did, but that was in letters. I wanted to be sure you wished it to continue in person before I was so presumptuous. And you did not answer my question, Eomer.”

She was teasing him; there could be no denying the glint in her eyes as she spoke. He supposed that could be considered a good sign…maybe. “No, I do not have a sour stomach. My thoughts are…disagreeable, hence my expression.”

“Possibly I have driven them from your mind, then, as your countenance is much more affable at the present. Perhaps if I stay and talk with you a while, they will not return?”

Yes, she was definitely teasing him, and he couldn’t really say he minded all that much. At least she was here, and they were talking, rather than watching her across the room with another man. And maybe this would be his opportunity to explore what her feelings might be for him.

“How could a man be disagreeable in your company?” he asked, giving her a grin.

She laughed easily. “Such flattery! Do you flirt with me, Eomer? That is most unlike you!”

“Is it? A man would be mad not to desire time spent with a charming lady. Have you truly found me so remote as to think flirtation beneath me?”

Her eyes softened, and he wondered what she was thinking. It took a moment before she replied, all the while strolling along the side of the room, and thus pulling him with her in order to maintain the conversation. “Beneath you – no. Indeed, I know of many ladies who would eagerly seek such behavior from you, but you have seemed largely occupied with the worries of your country, and I have not noticed your attention much upon ladies before this. Your ‘remoteness’ has been quite understandable.”

He sighed. Certainly she was correct in her observations. With the exception of the woman walking beside him, he hadn’t given much thought to the fairer sex since the War. Doing so seemed far too frivolous in light of the problems he needed to resolve for Rohan. While he had envied Eowyn, and even Aragorn, their happiness in finding love and a marriage companion, he had not felt as though he had the right to turn his attention to such matters as yet. Until now, that is. He needed a wife and heir, and the Riddermark would only be the better as a result, so perhaps it was not so selfish of him to consider it.

Darkness suddenly surrounded them, and Eomer came out of his reverie to notice that Lothiriel had steered their course out to the patio garden just off the main hall. Once his eyes adjusted to the low light of a few torches set around the vicinity to expose the pathway, he could see a few other couples were also enjoying the evening out of doors.

“Do you mind?” she asked, smiling up at him. “I thought some fresh air might be welcome. The hall is rather warm and stuffy.”

“Indeed. I do not mind at all,” he quickly acknowledged.

She moved over to a low wall that looked out upon the city, and he joined her there. For several long moments, neither of them spoke, but it was not so awkward a silence as he might have expected. At length, she ventured, “From your letters, I know that Rohan is gradually recovering, but what of you? How do you fare?” She turned to look intently into his face.

Her nearness made it difficult to breathe properly. She was a beautiful woman, certainly, but there was something more about this woman in particular. He was not even sure that he knew what precisely it was that drew him to her, but in any gathering it seemed his eyes and thoughts wandered in her direction; indeed, even his feet edged her way if he was not careful.

Forcing his unruly thoughts into some order, he tried to answer truthfully, “I…manage. It will be more difficult with Eowyn gone. I have relied greatly on her knowledge of court matters, and that will be sorely missed. Hopefully I have learned enough to function on my own now.”

Her eyes studied his face, and he rather got the impression that she was dissatisfied with his non-committal answer. After a moment, she murmured, “I was not speaking of being king, Eomer. How do _you_ fare, if it is not too audacious of me to inquire?”

He drew a ragged breath at the question. It was a question he had avoided considering for a very long time, not wanting to think much upon his personal feelings. “I, too, am… _managing_ ,” he answered quietly.

She must have noticed the strain in his voice. “I am sorry. It was wrong of me to pry into your personal–” 

“No.” He cut her off. “I…I am grateful for your interest, but it is still difficult to…to speak of…” His voice trailed off; he could not think of a reasonable explanation.

To his surprise, her hand came up to rest gently against his cheek. “Do not apologize. I would not make you uncomfortable, nor force you to express thoughts or feelings you prefer to keep private. I am just…concerned, about you. I think you take on more than you ought, and have no one to help bear the burden.”

Her hand was cold against his face, and he suddenly realized how chilly the evening had become. Virtually all the other couples had returned inside to the warmth. “I am sorry. I should not have kept you out here in the cold.” He still had the short, ceremonial cape draped on his shoulders, so he quickly unclasped it and moved to place it around her. The action put him even closer to her, and when she turned to look up at him in gratitude, she was virtually in his arms. Rational thought fled, and all the objections he might have entertained. Without even realizing it, he leaned in to press his lips to hers, drawing her into his embrace as he did. For several long moments, everything around him disappeared, and there was only this warm, wonderful woman that felt so right in his arms, and tasted so delicious on his lips.

As the need for air encroached, he drew back, but as he did, his head cleared sufficiently to realize the inappropriateness of his actions. Hastily releasing her, he took a step back, a mortified expression on his face. “I…I am sorry! I…I did not intend to be so…so forward!” he stammered.

Her eyes were lit with humor, and she raised an elegant eyebrow at him. “Clearly, it is I who must apologize, Eomer. Apparently I have given you the misimpression that I in some way objected to your behavior!”

As her words registered, he tentatively smiled at her, wanting to be very sure they were in agreement. “Then you did not mind?” Her consent certainly did not guarantee she had feelings for him that might lead her to consider him as a husband, but it was undoubtedly a step in the right direction.

She moved close to him once again, causing him to inhale slightly. “In truth, I found it quite…pleasant!” Eomer had never before particularly liked being teased, but he was beginning to realize he enjoyed that glint she got in her eyes when she wished to toy with him.

Once more, his arms acted of their own accord and drew her close into his embrace. “Indeed? That is excellent news. Perhaps I will venture to risk losing your approbation by taking such liberties again!”

Before he could lean in to make good on his threat, her laughing eyes glittered and her right hand slid up into his hair. Catching hold, she tugged him toward her. “I _do_ recommend your risking it!”

Enthusiastically, he did so, though part of him could not be so at ease as to give in to his full passion. This was new, and clearly she was willing, but there needed to be more before it went any further than a few pleasing kisses in the moonlight. Still, there would be time enough for _talk_ tomorrow!

In the shadow of the door to the hall, Amrothos leaned against the wall and sipped at his wine, observing the kissing couple with a grin. Poor Eomer! Hopelessly lost to his sister’s charms, but fortunately for Rohan’s king, the feeling seemed quite mutual. It appeared there would soon be another wedding to attend.

_TBC_


	4. Silver Lining, ch 3

**Silver Lining**

**Chapter 3**

Eomer awoke slowly, and then leisurely stretched, a contented grin spreading over his face. His time spent in the garden with Lothiriel had been most pleasant indeed, though Elphir had turned up to summon them back inside. Eomer wasn’t sure if he had seen them embracing or not; if so, he had not mentioned it, or given any indication that he had, although it had not been entirely clear why he had come looking for them either.

Amrothos had been seen lurking about, looking smug and knowing, which annoyed Eomer greatly, but he refused to let it dampen the pleasurable memory of Lothiriel in his arms. And, since no one seemed upset, if they knew of it, he saw no reason to worry. 

Unfortunately, today was his sister’s wedding, and that would keep him far too occupied for him to pursue further _conversation_ with the lady of his choosing. Perhaps tonight, at the wedding feast, they would again be able to seclude themselves somewhere, only this time he fully intended to speak plainly and make his intentions known to her. He would not have her thinking he was merely stealing kisses in the moonlight, without serious purpose. With renewed vigor, he climbed from his bed and began preparing for the day.

By the time he reached the dining chamber, Eomer had thought he might be a bit late, but instead found he was one of the first ones there. Only Faramir had yet arrived, and the two men nodded cordially to one another. Taking a seat across from his soon-to-be brother, Eomer leaned back in his chair, letting his thoughts wander back to the previous evening. Before he could get too far into his reverie, however, Faramir spoke.

“Eomer…do not mistake my meaning, but…I hope your intentions toward my cousin are honorable. I confess, it has been made known to me that you were seen last night in a, shall we say, _compromising_ position.”

Eomer met the man’s eyes evenly despite the slight flush he could feel rising in his face. “I assure you, Faramir, I have the utmost respect for your cousin, and would never do anything to dishonor her. I do not know what was reported to you as seen by someone, but there was nothing reproachable. The lady herself did not find my behavior objectionable, and I made no false promises to secure her acquiescence.” He could have explained more, but he refused to discuss his intentions with others until he had discussed them with Lothiriel herself. 

Faramir eyed him speculatively for a few moments, and then nodded his acceptance. “Very well. I will take you at your word on that. I would only remind you that she is as loved by her brothers, and cousin, as Eowyn is by you.” His meaning was clear and Eomer nodded his understanding.

The conversation had taken the edge off Eomer’s good humor, and he was glad the others began to arrive just then for the meal. Predictably, the day proved as busy as he had expected. He only got a glimpse of Lothiriel twice, from a distance, but he comforted himself with the hope of a dance that evening.

Eowyn’s nervousness was expressing itself in excessive attention to detail, and for a time Eomer got sucked into her demands to find this or do that, but at length he escaped with Aragorn, and the men holed up safely out of sight of the women, leaving them to their preparations.

Aragorn even joined him on a trip down to the Rohirrim camp while he conducted some business with Eothain, and despite his personal guard trailing him everywhere and the deference shown him, the Gondorian king seemed to enjoy the more relaxed atmosphere of his guests. It occurred to Eomer that it must have been even more difficult for Aragorn than himself in stepping into a royal role. The court at Meduseld was not so rigid as Gondor’s, and he enjoyed much greater freedom for the way he behaved and interacted with his people. While he was not so foolish as to venture outside Edoras without an escort, he could move around the town fairly freely without always being attended, as Aragorn seemed to be.

They took dinner in the camp with Eothain, laughing and reminiscing. In the course of their conversation, Eomer realized he had not seen Legolas or Gimli recently, and inquired, “Where have the Elf and the Dwarf wandered off? I do not recall them at the meals recently, and I have never known Gimli to pass up food!”

Aragorn snickered. “True! But Legolas induced him to visit Ithilien and see the work that has been done there. I do not believe Gimli cared a great deal for the idea – either riding a horse or seeing more trees – but, for Legolas, he would do anything and so they are gone. They should be returning in the next few hours. I know they intend to be here for the wedding. Perhaps their journey will have tired Gimli sufficiently to subdue his boisterous spirits a bit!”

There was a glint in Aragorn’s eyes as he said the last, and after only a moment’s pause, all three men broke into hearty laughter. Wiping at streaming eyes, Eothain observed, “I have never known Master Gimli to be so tired that he was less…boisterous!” The others hooted their agreement and they laughed for several moments more, sharing their favorite Gimli stories with great fondness for the stout little man.

At length, Eomer and Aragorn decided it would be best to return to the city and make themselves more available if needed. It was only a few hours until the wedding, and the preparations would only intensify the nearer it came. Each man retired to take his own measures in readying for the event. Eomer bathed and washed his hair, towelling it vigorously until it was mostly dry. Eowyn had already told him what she wanted him to wear, and made it clear she would brook no argument on the matter. He had felt obligated to fuss about her demands, but in truth he thought her choice was excellent. The color and cut of the clothes suited him very well, and though he particularly wished to look acceptable for Eowyn, he also wanted to catch the eye of a certain other lady. 

He was dressed with nearly a half an hour to spare, and paced his room for a time. As the presiding king, and the one conducting the ceremony, likely Aragorn had a great deal more he was required to do at present, so visiting him to kill time didn’t seem a viable option. Finally, Eomer headed out to one of the gardens. At least out of doors, Eomer did not feel so restless. He found a good view from the wall, looking down upon the city and the Pelennor. 

Both places were alive with activity. Celebrations had already begun lower in the city. Not all could actually attend the wedding itself, or the festivities in the Hall of Feasts, so they had not waited for the marriage to take place before beginning their revelry. Much of the encampment on the Pelennor was Eomer’s guard, and soldiers accompanying them to protect the wedding guests. A stream of small carriages were still winding their way from the camp and up through the streets to the higher level; late-comers, no doubt, hurrying not to be shut out.

A slight sound caught Eomer’s attention, and he turned, breaking into a grin as he spotted Lothiriel. She had taken only a step or two into the garden when she apparently noticed him, but her expression was not the warm, welcoming one he had come to expect. She stared stonily at him briefly, then wheeled and hurried away before he could register what was happening. For several moments, he stood there simply staring at the spot where she had been, unable to fathom what had just taken place. Her look had been one of cold anger… No, not anger. At first, he could not place her expression, but finally he identified it as ‘disappointment’. What had he done? She had welcomed his kisses, even encouraged them. Surely she could not be reproachful on that subject, but clearly something had distressed her, and he had no doubt that it was in some way connected to him.

His good mood was utterly gone, just when he needed it most, for a page was now before him advising it was time to begin. Forcing his frantic thoughts to the back of his mind, he focused his attention on the marriage of his sister and her happiness. He would not let this unpleasantness disrupt Eowyn’s day. His sister was too astute, and even in her daze of joy, he felt certain she would notice if his manner was not as it should be.

The sight of Eowyn improved his mood sufficiently for him to conceal his inner turmoil more easily. She was beautiful. He had always thought so, but at this moment it had never been more evident. He felt certain Faramir was marrying her for far more substantial reasons, but likely the man would not object at all to what his eyes were about to behold! Flashing her a grin that brought a blush to her cheeks, he offered his arm and led her toward the main hall.

There was no missing the audible gasp when they appeared at the entrance, and he smiled with pleasure on his sister’s behalf. As he had expected, Faramir’s eyes had gone wide, and he appeared to be in a state of shock. Imrahil was standing beside him, and gave his nephew a nudge to draw him out of his stunned stare.

Even Aragorn was beaming approvingly, but with amusement, as the couple moved into place before him. Once Eomer’s part in the ceremony was concluded, his mind wandered back to Lothiriel. He did not want to obviously be looking around, and she was not conveniently located to his gaze, but his mind continued to race in an effort to discover anything at all he might have said or done to give offense. Despite his efforts, though, nothing came to mind. She had kissed him as willingly as he had kissed her; surely she could not be upset about that, but then what?

Faramir sweeping his bride into a very unchaste kiss caused the hall to erupt in laughter and cheers, and jarred Eomer back to his surroundings. Now he did sneak a glance at Lothiriel, but she was studiously avoiding his gaze, and the smile on her face did not reach her eyes.

Almost as many people wanted to congratulate him as his sister and her husband, so he was trapped in an endless stream of hand clasping and back thumping. Lothiriel had quickly disappeared, and it wasn’t until they went into supper that he spotted her again. Amrothos was sitting next to her for the meal, and from his position at the head table, Eomer caught him glancing at his sister in puzzlement. At one point, Eomer noted he leaned in to ask her something, but her expression seemed to clearly indicate her refusal to reveal what was on her mind. It was evident that Amrothos was not pleased by that, but he left her alone as she wished. For a brief moment, Amrothos’ gaze fell speculatively on Eomer, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Eomer pretended not to notice. To the best of his knowledge, he had done nothing wrong, and therefore had no reason to feel guilty. Even so, he did not like to think of Lothiriel being in distress, and it somehow being associated with him. Somehow, someway, he intended to get to the bottom of this.

It wasn’t going to be tonight, however. Shortly after the meal concluded and the dancing began, he saw her holding a conversation with her father, and then depart the hall. It took some time to reach Imrahil, and make an effort to casually inquire about Lothiriel. Her father indicated she had developed a headache and retired early, and Eomer barely hid his sigh of frustration.

xx

It took two days to corner her. Apparently she had anticipated his attempting to approach her, and was determined not to allow it, but she had not counted on his own determination in the matter. He was a skilled warrior, and forcing the enemy to engage him in battle was second nature. He used those skills now to shadow Lothiriel until he was able to get her alone.

He had found that she had taken to spending time in the library of the Steward’s house, probably to avoid being seen and to have a sufficient reason for her absence. It had not taken much effort to follow her there without being spotted, and once she was inside, slip in behind her. He suspected that, given half a chance, she would leave at the sight of him, and he made certain not to give her that option by carefully keeping himself between her and the door.

“Lothiriel…” She jumped at the sound of his voice and wheeled to face him, her eyes searching for escape that was not to be found. “Lothiriel, we must speak.”

“I prefer not to, my lord. Now please step aside so I may leave,” she told him firmly, avoiding his gaze. 

She made a move to go around him to the right, but he countered it with a move of his own, and she skidded to a halt. “Whether you prefer it or not, we must speak,” he insisted. “I know that you are upset, but I do not know why.”

She made a move to his left, but he blocked her again. “Let me leave!” she demanded, though there was an agitated wail to it that almost undid him.

“Lothiriel, tell me what is wrong! What have I done, or not done?” he demanded urgently, desperate to know the problem so he could repair it.

Seeming to realize he would not let her depart without giving an answer, she swallowed hard, struggling to hold onto her composure. “I…I am sorry if my behavior led you to think I was more receptive to your advances than I truly am,” she told him, carefully choosing her words. “But I am not a woman to be dallied with, regardless of what you or your men may believe. And, now, I will thank you to excuse me, and trouble me no further.”

Despite her words, she still seemed to realize he was blocking her exit from the room, and did not appear brave enough to attempt brazening her way past him. Instead, she folded her arms and sought to fix him with a determined gaze, hoping it would cause him to yield.

Unfazed, Eomer stood staring at her incredulously, his mind racing as he tried to piece together her words and make sense of them. “Why…why on earth would you think that I wished to dally with you?” he asked slowly. That seemed to be her material point, so it should be addressed first.

Her gaze flicked away as she reluctantly answered, in a soft voice, “I heard your men speaking, when they were unaware I was near. They made it very plain that you could…bed…any woman of your choosing, and that for the moment your choice was me. They felt assured of your success in the matter. They are mistaken!” The last was said defiantly, and she lifted her chin proudly, though she could not stop the quiver in it as she struggled to hold back her tears.

Eomer merely stared at her, thunderstruck by this accusation. He had no idea what she might have heard his soldiers discussing, but clearly she had misinterpreted it, or they had misunderstood his intent and thus misrepresented him. He turned away from her, raking a hand through his hair. He could hardly blame her for her anger and distress, but how to right things and prove it was all a misunderstanding.

A thought came to him and he turned back to her, grabbing her wrist and saying tersely, “Come with me!” For an instant, she balked, her eyes wide with alarm at his behavior, but then he realized his abruptness was not helping matters, and gently amended, “Please, there are things you need to know, but we must go elsewhere for you to learn them.”

Her expression was still guarded, but she slowly began to follow him, and he dropped his hand from her wrist, offering his arm instead. Once they reached the courtyard, he stopped, staring around in frustration. At last he asked her, “Do you ride? Or are there carriages to be had? We are going down to the Rohirrim camp and it is too far for you to walk.”

Her eyebrows quirked in confusion at this announcement, but after a moment, she said, “We should be able to borrow a carriage on the sixth level. The stables keep a couple of small ones for the royal couple. I am sure the queen will not object to your borrowing one.”

The carriage was obtained, and they rode in uncomfortable silence down through the levels of the city. Eomer’s mind was focused on his plan, and his desperate hope that it would successfully convince her of his honorable intent. For Lothiriel’s part, she stared out the window, but she was clearly very aware of the man sitting across from her, and kept sneaking glances at him from the corner of her eye. He never spoke to her on the entire trip; indeed, he barely moved in his seat until they arrived at the camp.

Helping her out, he again offered her his arm, striking off quickly for a tent he seemed readily able to pick out of the mass. He was moving so quickly, that she had difficulty keeping up, and stumbled a few times on the rough ground. Only then did he notice, and slow his pace to accommodate her, though it was evident he was in a hurry to get where they were going.

Knowing better than to enter a man’s tent unannounced, especially with a lady on his arm, Eomer called out from the flap. “Eothain, it is me and Lady Lothiriel. May we enter?”

A startled voice replied, “Of course, my lord!” 

When they stepped inside, Eothain was standing by the small chair and table where he was working, eyeing them in puzzlement. “Eomer King. Lady Lothiriel. It is an honor.” He gave a short bow, awaiting an explanation.

Eomer got straight to the point, without bothering with the pleasantries. “The day before we arrived at Mundburg, we camped just outside the Rammas Echor, did we not?” At Eothain’s nod of agreement, Eomer continued, “You came to my tent that night and we conducted matters of business. Then I asked you a question. Do you remember what it was?”

Again Eothain nodded, clearly confused about this line of questioning. “Yes, my lord, you asked” – he glanced at Lothiriel with a bit of embarrassment, but obviously Eomer wanted their conversation known to her for some reason – “you asked what I thought of Lady Lothiriel.”

Lothiriel’s eyebrow rose at this, but she made no comment, waiting for the soldier to continue. Giving a small sigh, Eothain elaborated, “I told you that she was a beautiful woman, and everything one would expect in the daughter of a Prince.”

“Then what?” Eomer demanded, when Eothain seemed ready to conclude.

“Then…then you asked if I thought she would make a good queen of Rohan. You indicated you were attracted to the lady, and meant on this visit to become better acquainted, with a view to a possible courtship and marriage.”

Eomer’s attention now turned to Lothiriel who was staring wide-eyed at Eothain. While it was not explicitly instructed, Eothain suspected it would be a good idea to find something in the camp to occupy his time for a while. “Please excuse me,” he said with another short bow, hastening out of the tent.

The silence was stretching to the breaking point as Eomer tried to form the words to speak. “Lothiriel, regardless of what you heard someone say about me, even my own men, I am telling you now, myself, that my intentions toward you are perfectly honorable. I would welcome you in my bed, I do not deny it, but only if you are my wife. I came to Mundburg to see my sister married, it is true, but I have also come seeking a bride of my own. I wanted to get you alone and speak with you on the matter, but the ‘sour stomach’ you witnessed reflected my failure to accomplish it, and my disgruntlement at seeing you so willingly in the company of other men. Then the kiss…just happened, and you encouraged me, and I foolishly set aside conversation in order to enjoy your company. I thought there would be plenty of time to talk, and that your kisses meant you felt similarly. I do not know how things have gone so horribly awry, but I am persuaded that I love you. And if you can forgive me, perhaps you would still consider me as a husband.”

It was too much, and Lothiriel erupted in a gasping sob, her tears flowing freely as she flung herself into Eomer’s arms. He wasn’t sure whether to be alarmed or pleased, but it did seem a hopeful development. Wrapping her in his arms, he held her until her emotion subsided sufficiently for her to speak. Turning a tear-stained face up to him, she whispered, “I am so very sorry, Eomer, for accusing you of such bad character. I did not _want_ to believe it, but as it was men of Rohan, I thought perhaps they knew something I did not, knew you better than I fancied that I did.” She dropped her gaze in embarrassment, but he reached and tilted her chin up so she was looking at him.

“No, do not apologize. You could not have known. We truly have had so little time together that you could not know for certain what manner of man that I am. You were wise to be wary, for there are many smooth men who would abuse a woman as you feared, but I promise you, I am not one of them. I will gladly receive your kisses, and even beg to receive more, but I will not expect anything further of you, nor would I take it if you offered. I would not have there be anything to taint our joining, nor would I betray your trust, or that of your family.” 

Under the circumstances, he was hesitant to kiss her, as he was inclined to do just then, but she saved him the trouble, reaching to pull him to her. When at last they parted, she smiled warmly into his eyes, allowing her hand to come up and caress his cheek. “You are truly the best man I have ever known,” she murmured lovingly, and then added with a smile, “and I will gladly be your wife.”

His embrace of her was so tight that she almost could not breathe, At length, she heard him chuckle. “Excellent! Now I may speak to your annoying family members of my intentions, and not have to suffer their hints and warnings regarding you!” Smiling down into her eyes, he told her sincerely, “I am sorry for the pain I have caused you. You have ever been a bright spot in my life, and I never wished to be anything other than that in yours as well.”

“It was not your doing, Eomer. The fault is entirely mine. I should not have listened to such things, nor believed them. I should have trusted you, trusted you were the man I had come to know.” She laid her head against his chest, and sighed in contentment. “I believe I loved you when first we met, and the longer I knew you the deeper the feeling went. I scarcely dared hope I would ever find favor with you, and yet here you are, holding me.”

“I was never indifferent to you, my love, but I thought I had too much else that needed doing first before I could consider my own happiness. Now I am persuaded that my personal happiness will make it easier to accomplish the things that need doing. And you are my happiness, beloved.”

He gave a sigh, content to stand there holding her forever, but suddenly he became aware they were still in the middle of Eothain’s tent – well, his tent actually, but Eothain had the use of it while they were at Minas Tirith. Come to think of it, they had a carriage waiting outside, and nothing planned for the afternoon. With a grin, he pulled away from her and offered his arm. “Would my lady care to join me for a carriage ride? It is a fine day.”

She laughed at his behavior, but readily took his arm, and they strolled back to the waiting carriage. Just as he was handing her up into the seat, Eothain appeared, smirking and toting a bag. Holding it out to Eomer, he said, “In case you become hungry before you reach the city gates.” Eomer chuckled as he took it, giving his captain a nod of thanks.

If they kept inside the Rammas Echor, they should be safe enough and not require an escort, so Eomer directed the driver to head off down a lane leading to a small grove of trees. This was what he had longed for ever since the War ended – the sun on his face and the woman he loved snuggled into his shoulder.

Reaching the tree line, they climbed out and the driver went to tether the horses nearby, after Eomer shared out some of the contents of the food bag with him. For a while, Eomer and Lothiriel strolled among the trees, at last having the opportunity to talk in person rather than through letters. They were so lost in one another, they did not notice that the breeze had stiffened and cooled. The sun was now behind an angry-looking expanse of gray clouds, and a moment later, the skies opened up. Laughing, they dashed for the shelter of the nearest tree.

It did not appear that the rain would end any time soon, and Eomer was considering their options, when suddenly Lothiriel pulled from his side and dashed out into the downpour. Twirling in a circle, she turned her face up to the rain and laughed joyously. He was momentarily stunned by her actions, but all of a sudden, he bolted out to join her. Catching her hands, they twirled in a circle at arm’s length, laughing gaily. From a distance, the driver stood staring at them as though they had taken leave of their senses, and that caused them to laugh all the more when they saw it.

Catching her to him, Eomer whispered, “And what does the sky weep for now, my love?”

“Silly king! It weeps for us, for our joy. Do you not recognize tears of happiness?” And then she kissed him and the rain was forgotten.

_THE END_

1/27/08 – 2/9/08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And so we reach the end. Next up is a one-shot (Reservations), then next Saturday will begin a new multi-chapter story called "After the Rain"._


End file.
